The Epic Tale of Sullivan Fenton
by whoopsie
Summary: Sullivan Fenton, second child of Danny and Sam Fenton, is average in almost every way.  On day he chooses to break the mold set for him and delve into the ghosthunting ways of his family but will he succeed or fail?
1. Prologue

Prologue

I tapped my pencil against the table.

Tap, tap, tap. Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap.

The leaves in my backyard were slowly changing color. Hints of orange and red were hidden in masses of evergreens, but there was no mistaking that fall was here, and here to stay. A chill nipped at my bare feet from under the table. No one had bothered to turn the heat on yet today.

I looked down at the homework I had abandoned, Algebra 2. The paper was mostly blank, with "x5" with a question mark written next to number one, the date 10/21 in the top right corner, and my name scrawled in the top left. Sullivan Fenton.

I looked at the clock. It was four o'clock, and I still had accomplished nothing, homework-wise. I had successfully let the cat out the pantry, taken a message from the car insurance company, and made several doodles in the margins of my notebook, though. Not that that really meant much.

I retraced each letter of my name. _S-u-l-l-i-v-a-n_. Why my parents had ever chosen to give me such a strange last-name-for-a-first-name I will never know. Everyone thinks that you have two last names with the name Sullivan. You can't shorten it to anything, either. Your only two options are Sully, which makes you sound like an animal trained to do tricks at the zoo, or Van, which makes you sound like you were too stupid to remember the first half of your name and instead named yourself after a car. Of course, you could take liberties with name and create names like Sunny or Vinnie- but then everyone would either think you were the son of hippies or a mob boss. So, all in all, not a good name choice.

_F-e-n-t-o-n_, I traced. Fenton. It sounds like such a normal name when just put by itself like that. There's probably lots of Fentons. But none like me. Well, maybe not like me, but like my dad, or anyone else in my family for that matter.

My father, Daniel Fenton, was probably the most renowned hero of his time. He was famous by fourteen- saving the world, staying in school, beating the bad guy, getting the girl. The girl, of course, being my mother- Samantha Manson-Fenton, the most strong-headed woman on the East Coast. My mom is also a small celebrity in her world of eco-green groupies. She completely revitalized the EPA and has advocated proper energy use for years now. Yes, my parents are quite the team- saving the world from evil ghosts and polluters.

And, of course, with the perfect couple comes the perfect child. Namely, my older sister, Ellie. Not only one of the most hard-hitting journalists in New York, but also a ghost-fighter. She inherited my father's powers and started helping him when she was about fifteen. Now she's nearly thirty, with two young children, with the perfect job and life- just like my parents.

Where, you ask, do I fit in? I'm the second child of Danny and Sam Fenton, born fourteen years after my sister. And despite the track record of the rest of my family, I am really nothing to behold. I am not perfect. Nor do I fight ghosts. Yes, it's true- my dad fights ghosts, and my sister, but by some amazing stroke of genetics, I was born as average and plain as a piece of white bread. My parents say that it doesn't matter, that they still love me and Ellie exactly the same. I've never doubted that they love both of us, but I was never sure about loving us the same way. Somehow, Ellie just seems to have earned their affection a lot more than I have.

I suppose I do have a secret weapon against all of this perfection, though, something that not everyone in my family has- I'm smart. It's not that my family is dumb. My dad and Ellie have a certain aptitude for battle tactics and investigation, my mom can persuade people, my Aunt Jazz can read people better than anyone else. But I see a lot of what they don't. When they decorate a room, they look at it as just placing furniture, while I see it as a complex geometry problem. When they put toast in the toaster, they're thinking about breakfast, but I'm thinking about how the electricity travels through the wires and circuit breakers. And when they toss something into the air, they're thinking about catching it- not the trajectory and physics of why it rises and falls. It really doesn't make a whole lot of difference in my family, but it's nice to know that I have something that not everyone else does.

And that does mean a lot to me, especially because my best friend, Barry, moved away at the beginning of the summer. Now I've started my freshman year of high school at Drogo High, a regional high school in my town. There are a thousand other kids there, but it's still a lonely place. I still email Barry, but it doesn't really compare to having him here with me.

In the next room, the side door creaked open.

"Hi, Mom," I said without looking up.

"Hi," she replied. I could hear her taking off her jacket. Her briefcase thumped against the wall and her high-heeled boots clicked against the linoleum floor. "How was your day at school? Make any new friends?"

"Eh," I said, my usual response. "How about yours?"

She entered the kitchen. "You know," she said, "taking down corrupt polluters, one by one. I was sitting in meetings all day. They really need to cushion those chairs better." She kissed the top of my head and studied my homework.

My mom is an enigma. She's like no other mom I've met before- clean, clear, ready to kick butt at any moment in time. Her long, pin-straight black hair reaches to her shoulders. It now has numerous flecks of gray in it as she approaches her fiftieth birthday. Her eyes are still the most perfect shade of deep purple that you can imagine, though. She appears much taller than she actually is because she stands so straight and confident, and she's very thin (mostly because she's a vegetarian). I hardly ever see her out of the color black- black suits to work, black jeans, black blouse, shiny black high-heeled devil-like boots that clicked on the floor when she walked. My mom is probably the strongest person I've ever met; I've only ever seen her cry once in my life, and that was the first time she saw my sister's children.

"Doesn't look like you're getting far on your homework," she commented.

I ran my hand over my head, fluffing up my hair in frustration. "I haven't been able to concentrate," I mumbled.

My mom ran her hand over my hair, flattening it back down. She touched my neck, sending a chill down my spine. "Wanna do this later?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, relieved.

"Get your shoes on," she said. "Our new neighbors arrived yesterday. I got a cake for them on my way home. You can come with me to say hi."

Although going with my mother to greet people I didn't know and listen to her talk about how they should switch to solar power didn't exactly sound fun, I agreed to go. It was better than nothing.


	2. Chapter One

_A/N: I really hope that everyone is enjoying the story! If you really like it, tell someone else... the more, the merrier. I'm sorry if this chapter seems a little slow, I tried to keep it short, this is still just in exposition phase. Everything will definately be picking up in the future._

**Chapter One**

The sky was a dull shade of gray that reminded me of dust as my mom and I walked across the street. I shivered under my jacket; it was only late October but there was a definite chill in the air that nipped at your nose and ears. The trees swayed back and forth as if they were trying to keep warm too.

The house across the street had once been occupied by the Katz family, who had been friends of the family for years. Their daughter, Kaylie, is my sister's best friend and my cousin's wife. They put their house up for sale at the beginning of the year and then high-tailed it to Florida, where the weather is warm and their allergies don't act up.

I missed the presence of my odd neighbors, and I wondered what these new people would be like. Either way, they couldn't possibly be weirder than my family.

A hybrid car, similar to ours, was parked in the driveway. My mom gave it a nod of approval.

We approached the door, and my mom gave a sharp, confident rap with her knuckles. I heard skittering on the floor, and the "yip-yip" of a small dog. There were several clicks as the locks were undone. The door swung open about three inches, revealing a bright hazel eye.

"Hi," my mom said. "I'm Sam Fenton, I live across the street. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood."

The door swung open in full, revealing a girl of about my age. She had straight brown hair that was tousled and pulled back into a ponytail. She wasn't much shorter than me, and was dressed plainly in jeans and no shoes. Her eyes were a sharp, bright hazel.

"Um…" she started. She had obviously been disturbed from her activities; a thick book hung at her side in her hand. "I'll go get my mom. You can come in if you want."

My mom and I stepped into the foyer. Boxes were everywhere; not surprising, seeing as they had just moved in. Printed on the side were the words "EcoProduct: Made of Recycled Materials". Again, my mom nodded in approval.

A woman entered the room. She had short blondish hair and was about my mom's age. She had rich brown eyes and was tall and lean. As different as she was, she struck me as very similar to my mother. Her high heels even clicked on the floor in a similar fashion. She held a small scruffy looking mutt-like dog in her arms. It panted and wiggled. She placed it on the ground and it scampered out of sight.

"Hi," my mom greeted again, shaking hands with her act-a-like, "Sam Fenton. I'm your neighbor from across the street."

"Leslie Auttenberg," the woman said. She summoned her daughter. "And this is my daughter, Hazel." Hazel gave a small forced smile. I looked at her hazel eyes; I wondered if her parents knew that she would have hazel eyes when she was born, or if it was a just a lucky guess.

"Introduce yourself," my mom mumbled to me.

"Sullivan Fenton," I said with the same forced smile Hazel had given.

"We brought you a cake," my mom said, "I know we were low on food when we moved in. So, just, welcome to the neighborhood. Where are you from?"

"Staten Island," Mrs. Auttenberg said. "It was crowded, though. It's just so much nicer to be out in the wilderness like this. It's just much harder to find work out here."

"What do you do?" my mom said.

"I'm an environmental lawyer," she responded. "I represent small organizations in cases about pollution, mostly."

I practically saw the fire light behind my mother's eyes at these words. She had found her long lost eco-morality twin. "Really?" she said. "I work for the EPA."

"I thought your name sounded familiar!" Mrs. Auttenberg exclaimed. "I believe some of my clients have mentioned you."

My mom smiled, and looked around for something to talk about. She spied a family picture on the wall; it showed Mrs. Auttenberg and Hazel with a man next to them.

"Your husband?" my mom asked.

"Yes," she said, "He's out right now. He works at the new planetarium about an hour away."

"I've heard about that," Mom said. "My husband's been trying to get us to go up there for months now. He works at the space supply company."

It was official. My parents had met their perfect match. My space nut father and my eco green mother had finally met their mirror image.

"Well, we should have them meet, then," Mrs. Auttenberg said. "So, where do you go to school, Sullivan?"

"Drogo High," I responded.

"He just started his freshman year," my mom added.

"Really?" she said, surprised. "Hazel's going to be starting her freshman year there tomorrow."

I looked at Hazel. Her eyes were gazing out the window. She definitely didn't want to be here right now. I could relate.

"Well, Sullivan has homework to finish," my mom explained. "But I would love to have you and Hazel and your husband over for dinner next week. My daughter Ellie is coming home from New York to stay and I would love to have everyone over."

"Sounds wonderful."

"Bye."

Leaving, I definitely foresaw that there would be a lot of the Auttenberg family in our future.

-----------

The next day, I sat in Algebra class, listening to the clock tick as Mr. Atlas droned on and on about linear combinations, something I already knew how to do.

I am the only freshman in Honors Algebra 2. I'm mostly surrounded by confused juniors. I try to keep a low profile in my classes. As the only freshman in upperclassmen courses, you do tend to attract a lot of resentment when you do better than people who are older and supposedly smarter than you. Drogo High has some pretty serious upperclassmen; it's much better to be on their good side.

Mr. Atlas continued in his slightly eerie monotone voice. He was going slightly gray and had a long, beak-like nose that made you expect him to squawk. Every few minutes he would re-sanitize his hands with Purell. He's what most people would call "eccentric", but in my mind he was just plain crazy.

It was only fifteen minutes into class, and it was first period. It was going to be such a long day. I drew a small cartoon picture of a fish in a bowl in the upper right hand corner of my notebook. It looked lonely. I drew another fish in with it.

There was a knock at the door from the hallway. I jumped slightly at the sudden noise; the junior behind me snickered. "Freshman," he murmured.

Atlas mumbled under his breath about disrespectful people who disrupt his class. He opened the door and talked to whoever was just outside of it while re-sanitizing his hands. Finally, he stepped back and allowed the people outside into the room.

One of the guidance counselors stepped in with, surprisingly, Hazel. Hazel looked at her feet. Her mousy brown hair had been let down today; it fell just past her shoulders.

"Hi everyone," the counselor said in the creepy, confident voice that counselors use, "this is your new classmate, Hazel Auttenberg. She's a new freshman and she just moved here from New York, so please make her feel welcome." The counselor gave Hazel a pat on the shoulder, gave us one last smile, and left the room.

"Miss Auttenberg," Atlas said, "Please take the seat in the back next to Mr. Fenton." Hazel sat down next to me.

Correction: I used to be the only Freshman in my Algebra 2 class.

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed that. Just so you know, Hazel may seem dull right now, but she'll become a lot more interesting later. The next few chapters will also be including a visit from Sullivan's older sister... so, hang in there, things are going to get good!_

_-Rachel_


End file.
